


Even Then

by Asher_Ephraim



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bullying, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood, Family, Gen, Homophobia, Mother-Son Relationship, Murder, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:45:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: Fill for Day 6 of Mitaka Week. Theme: Childhood/Teen AU.Set in canon-verse, this ficlet explores Mitaka's years before graduation from Arkanis.





	Even Then

The first time Dopheld came home from school with a torn lip and bloodied nose, his mother simply sat him down on a battered stool, cleaned his face with a cool washcloth, and swore, “I will always love you, no matter what.” He was eight at the time, and some other boys had pegged him as atypical. They hadn’t words for it yet, but something was different about Dopheld Mitaka. Something secret and dangerous; something _weak_.  
         He’d known even then, but kept it close, not wanting to worry her further. Besides, he didn’t have a word for it either and it would’ve taken a stuttering paragraph to explain that he liked boys the way a boy was expected to like girls.  
         In the years that followed, it bloomed into an unspoken knowledge and then just another aspect of his life. She only mentioned it directly when moved to console him. Granted, that was often enough.  
         “Other people will be idiots. You must remember that if such a thing bothers them, they are not worth your time or your sadness.”  
         Still, he felt it deep. He learned to keep it deep as well.  
         By the time he was twelve, he’d heard every disparaging thing that could be said to a boy who was good natured, intelligent, or homosexual—or Maker help him, all of the above.  
         When, as an older boy, he went off with a series of other boys who treated him carelessly or callously, his mother reminded him, “One day, you will make some lucky man a wonderful husband. Know that you deserve it.”  
         Her own husband was long gone, dead from a wasting illness that took him before Dopheld knew to miss his presence. But she remembered: what love was, and what a marriage was.  
         Dopheld wanted to discover that for himself.

At Arkanis, during his second term, a brilliant student a year his senior caught his eye, then his interest, and finally his heart. But Arkanis being what it was, one morning the other young man was late for muster and soon found in his bunk with his throat slit.  
         Everyone knew to expect vicious competition at baseline and frequently enough, outright murder. But that didn’t prepare Dopheld for his first great loss at seventeen.  
         In his grief, he kept his marks up, received pips in diplomacy, strategy, and military theory. No one gave him a sideways glance when a string of particularly cruel boys turned up poisoned, each with his face frozen in a rictus of misery. Paralysis was a truly horrific way to die, because the mind remained fully competent while the body refused to fulfill its most essential functions. Motion, breath, heartbeat—all became traitors to a panicking master screaming a barrage of unheeded orders.  
         No one like Dopheld Mitaka would be able to stomach such an act. Surely not.  
         What they didn’t know were the hours he’d clocked holding ice packs to his face and spitting blood into the basin of a sink, reciting in his head the vitriol that had been spouted at him. Years of casual beatings and slurs. He found strength in being continually underestimated. Physically and intellectually, of course—but above all else, when it came to the raw force of his will.  
         He’d decided years ago to live to meet his husband.


End file.
